A few Friday musings on marriage, metamorphosis, worms and money

It’s Friday Travellers,

And I have a lot of thoughts, maybe get a cup of tea for this…

I’ve been trying to add up the number in my mind of women whom I have met since my divorce, who are also divorced, and have quite emphatically told me that they’ve never been happier than well, being on their own. Happily divorced. SO HAPPY. Not fake happy, like glowy. And all ages, not just mid-life or late in life, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, I mean I bet it’s been near a dozen women now…some random strangers, almost like the universe is speaking to me…it just happened again last night.

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Raising the Dead

Happy Halloween Travellers,

OR All Hallows’ Eve, OR my favorite to say and most intriguing by far, Dia de los Muertos! AKA Day of the Dead. Which sounds like the name of zombie movie, but it’s really not…

I’ve been thinking about this post in my mind for the past few days because I have so much to say and want it be as meaningful in words as it is inside myself. I’m not sure I can do that because I find when I try to be profound, I always fall flat on my face versus just let the words come out…

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Life as a fortune cookie

Good morning Travellers,

Let’s see what I come up with here in my 60 minute window today…

When I was married, we ate a lot of Chinese Food. Or it seemed like a lot looking back from here. Every Sunday evening, we ate it while watching “The Walking Dead”. Then that show lost it’s way and our Sunday night regularly scheduled dinner went with it.

I think we can all agree that good Chinese food is hard to find…but when you do it’s almost like crack cocaine, you crave it and it’s addictive and SO GOOD. To be clear, not endorsing drug use, obviously, but when something is disturbingly good, crack seems to be the comparative, doesn’t it? We had a pretty good little joint near our home and they had rather good fortune cookies.

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Make Good Choices…

And we are back Travellers,

I’ve been working on a lot of internal exploration these past two weeks. This is what I mean when I say “soul spelunking”, it’s the internal climbing around inside yourself so to speak. Digging into yourself, your emotions, your choices, your experiences to discover who you really are. Processing and shining a light into the darkness that you’ve been ignoring all your life.

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Storms

Good morning Travellers,

It’s a rainy one, all night, all morning. Think there’s been more rain here this year than any year of my entire life, no matter where I’ve lived. Rain. Rain. Rain.

Sometimes I feel like it’s trying to wash away something…(Listen and insert Bon Iver)

Last night, as the storm was coming, it was really quite beautiful…there’s is a strange beauty in chaos isn’t there? Though I’m not sure storms are really chaos, are they? I really liked how the sky looked like it was swelling around the sun, swathing it in darkness…this is around 7pm..it made a sunshine belly button in the sky…

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Need

Good evening Travellers,

I hadn’t planned on writing today, but heard a song and felt I had something to say after all…

Woke up late this morning, which was nice. Charlie is an awesome tiny spoon partner in bed. Never thought I would say that about a cat, much less live with cats.

Made brunch for the first time as a single girl. With my very favorite pancake recipe:

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Where is the OFF switch?

Hello Travellers,

The past few days of life here in Kansas have been without fanfare. By which I mean, there have been no wonderful morning walks due to the heat, humidity and rain. AND there have no discernible sunrises or sunsets. No beautiful skies, no lovely colors. The days have just lit themselves like someone was using a dimmer switch. Light slides on, light slides off. In fact this morning, I decided to dub this week, the Days of Malaise, because I’ve been having an equally rough time as well.

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In fact, I came here to write yesterday and just could not unclog myself to find the words. I typed out a little something but it felt so empty. Same with Sunday and Tuesday. It’s really abit upsetting because I have been so in tune with myself or my muse and then POOF, nope, just gone. Usually when I sit down in front of the screen, the words find themselves and pour out onto the page. Even today, I can feel abit of resistance, but I decided no matter what I come up with I’m putting it out in the world. Because we each have to embrace our story in all it’s ugliness and glory.

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Mow it like you mean it

It’s dinner time Travellers,

I’m obviously arriving late today. Once you begin your morning in tardiness, it seems the entire day is chasing it’s tail. BUT the weather is splendiferous. I love that word. And I love this weather. ALL DAY LONG. Since the world opened it’s eyes this morning, it’s been everything a person wants in a day’s temperament.

Our morning walk bordered on transcendent, which you may think is abit heavy handed, but truly, the skies seemed almost backlit with blues, pinks and purples, the clouds were all drifty and it was peaceful. The three of us treading thru the world half awake. It’s the way days should begin for us I think, getting outside and greeting the world. And I mean all of us.

And in case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m trying to woo you into morning walks…

 

Speaking of outside, last night I had a helluva lawn mowing adventure. Adventure is being generous, but that’s what mowing is for me. It’s venturing into uncharted territory. I didn’t have any real lawn mowing experience prior to my divorce. I grew up with outdoor allergies which kinda gave me a hall pass. I think I sort of a princess as a teenager who eventually dropped the crown on the ground.

My backyard is ginormous. Not exaggerating…

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It’s every dog’s idea of paradise, but not the owner, me, who has to mow it. And lately, the grass is just erupting out of the backyard’s every orifice. Rapidly exploding like it’s on steroids, which presents a very specific set of problems. Problems I did not know existed until my single girl lawn mowing adventures.

Did you know that grass congeals on the underbelly of the mower itself when it’s moist? It does. And I had no idea. It’s really a special kind of awful. Then that thick build up causes the blade to stall out and the mower shuts off. In mid mowing sentence. What happens next can only be described as a maneuver I call burping the mower, to make it cough up all that grassy gunk. Then it wheezes and sputters to start again leaving behind little verdant mounds in the yard. (which you can see in the photo from and center.) Like grass poop. Or mower vomit, you choose. And you cannot mow over these little piles without upping the ante.

For the final hurrah, you have to gently tilt the mower on it’s side so you can scrape the remaining lawn mortar. It’s thick. It’s like wiping off the mower’s butt, similar to a baby, if that baby were metal, substantially heavier and able to accidentally slice your hand off. Otherwise it grows mold in the garage.

YAY!

Last night was particularly difficult, and I spent my entire evening battling the great outdoors. The things you learn as a divorced woman. And to my wasband’s credit, he was a masterful greens keeper. I am not. I am getting it done.

As I was mowing thru the more uneventful stretches of green, I considered maybe hiring someone to finish the lawn. Just the random patches. Because I was so frustrated and wanted to quit. But I wasn’t going to quit, then I remembered this short story that Stephen King wrote years ago called “The Lawnmower Man” which is in a collection called “Night Shift”. I think I was in fifth or sixth grade when I read it. There were group of us that read ahead of our class and Stephen King caught my attention at a young age. This particular story is quite grotesque and disturbing. And specific. The imagery is very David Cronenberg-Esque. It’s a bizarre take on something very mundane. I only read it one time, but I still remember it vividly. Random memory from out of nowhere.

Then I was thinking about the “American Dream” or the ideals that once seem to guide the citizens of this country. (Sharp left turn, I know.) And how mowing the lawn seemed to be portrayed as a source of pride for men of a certain era. They even wore shirts and ties and sometimes suits for the occasion! It was something they discussed with neighbors and manicured it weekly. Because having a home with a yard were checkpoints in that dream. Along with a wife, 2 kids and a job. They didn’t shy away from hard work, they made it fancy. They took pride in it. Or so it seems.

I can’t imagine that world…And I can wonder, were they happy? Was life simpler? Did having a checklist work out for them? Or was everyone stuffing their discontentment down into the soles of their soul?

Maybe they just chose to behave better, that’s where I leave you tonight..

Oh, and, I’m pretty sure women weren’t allowed to cut the grass much less burp the mower during that era. And I would certainly hate to miss those experiences…because I’m working on the DO, instead of the dream…

 

 

 

 

 

This is temporary

Holy hot one Travellers,

I should have kept my mouth shut last Friday because no sooner did I declare the glory of our morning walk and the accompanying weather did Mother Nature decide to humidify our lives. 90% humidity. It’s abit much. In truth we’ve really only had two rough weeks of heat and humidity here this year, which is really a gift, and today appears to be the last of this little bout of saturated air.

I actually think of high school chemistry class when it’s humid like this AND super saturated solutions…do you remember that sort of thing? How much particulate can you dissolve into a liquid before it no longer dissolves? In this case though, it’s the air that is supersaturated and that’s actually true because when it can’t hold anymore water, it tends to rain. Am I right? Sorta? Obviously, I’m not a chemist…but my teacher would be so pleased that I even remembered any of that.

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Fix me

Good morning Travellers,

This morning on our walk I felt a sense of relief. I had survived the night before and here was the dawn. Though a bit stuffy, even in the darkness. We’ve largely escaped the Midwest humidity this summer, but now it’s here in all it’s glory. Ta-da!! Even at 5:30am in the morning. I can’t imagine how humidity feels to animals, has to be like wearing a zipper-less fur coat into a sauna.

The other thing that made me heart feel better this morning was that rooster, the one I mentioned a few weeks ago. We haven’t heard him since that morning, I was afraid he had met with an ill fate. Or someone choked him to shut him up. This morning though, he was cock-a-doodle-doing with all his might. And it felt like a sort of heralding for me personally… Continue reading “Fix me”